No Thanks
by Simon920
Summary: Dick receives an unexpected letter.


Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.

Feedback: Hell, yes.

**No Thanks**

"Master Dick, there's a call for you, line three."

"Who is it?"

"A gentleman who identified himself as a Mister Proust." Alfred released the intercom button, watched the indicator lights on the phone and made sure Dick had picked up. Ten minutes later the light went out, the call was over.

Two days later the young master received a certified letter from a legal firm in Sacramento, California. Alfred placed it on the hall table, as he always did with Dick's personal mail while Master Bruce's was always set on his desk in the study so that he would be sure to see it in a timely manner. The return address was a legal firm named Proust, Landers and McDowell and a quick check showed them to be a well-connected and major operation. The letter was gone when he checked back later that afternoon and Alfred asked about it when the boy appeared in the kitchen for a snack around four.

"It wasn't anything."

"A certified letter from a lawyer is rarely 'nothing'. Might I ask what it concerned?"

Dick took a long drink of milk. "My grandfather died—my mother's father, James Lloyd. He had a heart attack last week. They were telling me about some inheritance he left me and asked me to go to the funeral or memorial or whatever it is so I'd be in California for the reading of the will. I told them I had school and they could mail whatever he left me." He was matter of fact; not appearing at all upset about the loss of a member of his blood family.

"I'm quite sure Master Bruce would have no qualms about you going to the ceremony, Dick—I'm sure you realize that. Shall I make the arrangements?"

"No, thanks." He got up rather abruptly, clearly not wanting to have this conversation and Alfred let him go, knowing that if and when he wanted to talk about it, he would.

Two days went by with no discussion coming from Dick, which seemed unusual—normally the boy would chatter about everything under the sun to the point of repeating himself now and again. Concerned, Alfred mentioned the situation to the Master.

"Well, he's never mentioned this man before and Lloyd never tried to contact Dick since he's been with us—no phone calls, no letters and I don't think there's been anything on the computers, either; obviously they aren't close. I wouldn't worry about it, Alfred, let him deal with it in his own way."

"In all likelihood, but I point out this man was, for better or worse, his grandfather—surely he must have some thoughts and feelings about his passing."

Bruce leaned back in the large leather chair behind his desk. "I'll speak to him, this evening about it, see if he's upset and just trying to hide it or if there's something else going on here."

"Thank you, Master Bruce. Now, would you care for another glass of wine?" Declining, Bruce wondered what thoughts Alfred might have about Dick's grandfather—a role Alfred had filled since the boy had arrived to live in the Manor, realizing he'd likely never know.

* * *

"You do know that if you want to go out to California that it's fine. I'll call Tom and have him fuel up the Lear if you want."

"No, thanks."

They were changing for the evening's patrol, almost ready to leave. "Do you want to send some flowers, then?"

"Not really."

Okay, try again and then let it drop. "Have you actually spoken to the lawyers? I gather that you're included in the will."

Dick gave Bruce his 'I don't want to talk about this' look and stayed silent.

"Why not?"

With some exasperation; "I've never met the man, I wouldn't know him if I fell over him. He and my mother were estranged because she married my father and never reconciled. We both know that when they were killed he didn't lift a finger to either help me or to see if I was taken care of." Dick, now Robin, pulled his gloves on. "He never sent a Christmas present or a birthday card. He sure as hell never made any effort to actually meet me or get to know me. He still hadn't up till the day the heart attack killed him. Why should I grieve for a total stranger who never gave me the time of day?" He put his mask on, "Ready? Let's go."

Dick was nothing if not definite and Bruce didn't argue with him. He was right; the man hadn't shown the least amount of attention to the boy and there was no real reason for Dick to feel anything but anger for someone who likely not only ignored him when he needed help, but caused what had to be real pain to his parents.

He wouldn't bring it up again unless Dick did, but managed to feel some pity for James Lloyd anyway. He'd never known his grandson, never had any idea just how extraordinary he was and that was—and would always be his loss.

Bruce was grateful Dick had a grandfather in Alfred.

Two weeks later another certified letter arrived in the mail for Dick. Inside was notification of an investment trust set up in his name for three million dollars, the trustee was Lloyd's personal investment broker, a senior vice president at Smith Barney. The assets of the trust would revert to Dick when he reached his thirtieth birthday, until that time he would receive the dividends in an annual disbursement. The yearly total should be in the low six figures.

Bruce, as Dick legal guardian, was copied on the notification.

"The way these finds are invested, they should generate between two and three hundred thousand a year. We should talk about what to do with that."

"Give it away. Your choice—wait, no. Give it to the Actor's Fund. In fact, give the whole three million to them and let them have the dividends every year. Make it a gift in perpetuity."

"Dick…"

"I don't want his money; I don't want _anything _from the old bastard."

"He was clearly trying to make up for past failings."

"That's his problem." Dick refrained from even commenting on how many trucks could be driven through that logic. Instead he made his the last and final comment on the subject, settling for a simple and curt; "Too little, too late."

6/24/08

Please note: The Actors Fund is a national, nonprofit organization serving all entertainment professionals through comprehensive services and programs. In addition to providing emergency grants for essentials such as food, rent and medical care, The Actors Fund provides counseling, substance abuse and mental health services, senior and disabled care, nursing and retirement homes, an AIDS Initiative, Actors Work Program, the Phyllis Newman Women's Health Initiative, supportive housing on both coasts and other essential programs.

Founded in 1882, The Fund serves those in film, theatre, television, music, opera, and dance with a broad spectrum of programs including comprehensive social services, health services, supportive and affordable housing, emergency financial assistance, employment and training services, and skilled nursing and assisted living care.

Administered from offices in New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago, The Actors Fund is a safety net, providing programs and services for those who are in need, crisis, or transition.

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